


i've known you all along

by smallestbrown



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Drabble Collection, F/M, Jealousy, Kissing, Makeouts, nice, oh UHHHHH tags on a drabble collection huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallestbrown/pseuds/smallestbrown
Summary: LATEST UPDATE: "Tim has not known himself to be a quiet kind of kisser. It’s about escalation, generally—how a peck can lead to tongue can lead to falling into bed. But with Sasha, time slows down. He’s not in a hurry."Or, we're posting timsasha content and there's nothing you can do about it. Gonna post a bunch of drabbles here so eat up
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 65





	1. curtain call (theatre au!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What could there possibly be to talk about.” She unclips a tag from one of the gowns. “It’s just a stage kiss. Except,” she huffs a laugh, “it wasn’t—you didn’t."
> 
> Dedicated to the timsasha server’s 3pm Brain Blast discussing a theatre AU with Tim as lead actor and Sasha as stage manager. That is really all the context I can provide for this

He finds her backstage again, rearranging costumes on a rack. She still won’t look at him.

“Look, Sash,” he swallows. Even he doesn’t know where he wants this conversation to go, but he just has to tell her—something. Anything to get her to look at him again. “About earlier—”

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Her tone is clipped, and she yanks hangers across the pole a bit too sharply.

“I want to, though.”

“What could there _possibly_ be to talk about.” She unclips a tag from one of the gowns. “It’s just a stage kiss. Except,” she huffs a laugh, “it wasn’t—you _didn’t_."

Sasha finally turns to face him, and she’s close enough that he can see that anger and that sliver of something like hurt that she always keeps so well hidden.

“You make out with Alex almost every night, and it’s _Alex_ , it’s—I know you don’t have a problem with stage kissing. So, the only explanation is—you must have a problem with me.” Once it’s out, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks away again. Tim’s heart twists with guilt.

“Sasha. You can’t seriously think that.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think? Why couldn’t you—"

“Because I wanted it to—” Tim catches himself for just a brief second, and thinks _Well, fuck it_ , “—to be real.” 

It’s enough to echo across the empty stage. There’s just the hum of the speaker they hadn’t turned off, and the sound of their breathing. Somewhere in the hallway, they hear a door close.

Fists clenched, Tim swallows, and says again, a little quieter: “I want it to be real.”

The wild tension in her spine seems to unfurl, a bit. She drops her arms to her sides. Her face is serious, an upward tilt to her eyebrows, somehow looking so intent. Like she’s waiting for something.

“Okay.”

Tim almost laughs. He feels like he’s freefalling. “Okay? Just like that?"

“Yeah,” says Sasha. Her expression hasn’t changed, almost defiant and grave, but even on the half-lit stage her eyes take up all the space in the room. She’s looking at him like no one’s ever looked at him before. “Kiss me, Tim.”

With his heart suddenly pounding a mile a minute, he’s thankful they’re already standing close; Tim can’t imagine using his legs after hearing her say that. Instead, he brushes his hand under her chin softly, just barely tilting it upwards. Like he did before, when they were running lines. Like he really should have done.

Sasha watches him, can certainly see him swallow nervously, his eyes flittering over her face like he’s lining up his shot. He just—wants to do it right. But Tim doesn’t miss the moment her eyelids fall, and her gaze slips to his lips.

He leans in. Soft, tentative, this hesitant brush against her mouth where he forgets how to breathe.

He leans back, just barely, a shaky exhale against her cheek.

Sasha huffs, and whispers, “Like you mean it, Stoker.”

Sasha was wrong. He does have a problem with stage kissing.

It could never compare to the real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just gonna collect all my shortform timsasha stuff here so heat your popcorn and pop a squat. oh also on [tumblr](https://smallestbrown.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/smallestbrown)! love you bye


	2. extracurricular (it's an office makeout sesh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Sasha can have a little only-slightly-jealousy-induced office makeout. y'know, as a treat.

Sasha’s rounding the corner of the building after lunch. She’s not looking for him, per se—he said he was getting lunch somewhere, and Sasha went to the sandwich shop across the street—but that’s the thing about Tim and Sasha; they sort of... _gravitate_ to one another. Even when they aren’t trying. Even when they’d rather not. 

When she stumbles on Tim, lips locked with a blonde she’s never seen, she definitely finds she’d rather not. He’s got one hand on the small of their back, one in their hair, bending over them just a little in a way she instantly and indisputably knows must make them feel small and safe and held— 

Sasha wishes to _God_ that her feet would move. But the three seconds where she’s frozen to the spot are enough for Tim’s eyes to flutter open, and lock with hers. 

He breaks away from his companion brusquely. “Ah, uh—” 

“Hey,” Sasha says, and all of a sudden, the shock breaks off her in waves. “I’ll—see you inside!” she calls, breathless, shuffling past them and into the Institute. 

She closes the door as quickly as she can without slamming it. Not her most graceful moment, but hopefully an easy recovery. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, one of Tim’s dates picking him up at work. And Sasha had thought she was getting better at letting it slide off her. _She’d_ been the one, after all, to tell him they weren’t—couldn’t— 

She hears the door open again, and Sasha hurries over to her desk in time for Tim to appear in the office. 

“Looked like you were having fun,” she says, cocking an eyebrow. She’s good at this, at least: teasing, ribbing, _poking fun_. It’s nothing of substance, but it always works; enough jokes, enough razzing, and whoever’s asking will drop it. If it was Martin, he’d blush and stammer—Jon would too, if he ever gave her the opening—but it’s Tim, and he’s... stubborn, sometimes, when it comes to her. 

“ _Hah_ ,” Tim breathes, reaching up to scratch his neck in a way that definitely doesn’t show off his arms. “Sorry about that.” 

“What for? Who am I to disturb your extracurricular activities?” 

His grin is awkward, “ _God_ , extracu—of course you would make kissing sound like a homework assignment.” 

“Well you sure seemed to be _studious_ about it.” 

Tim groans and starts to cross the room, and Sasha’s pulse does this unnecessary double-jump. “Look, alright, I’m just trying to apologize.” 

“You really don’t have to,” she tries. His determination is making her nervous in a way that she—doesn't want, probably. Probably. Certainly. 

“Please, Sash,” he says, stepping towards her even more, “It’s totally unprofessional, I—” 

“It’s okay, Tim, it’s none of my—” 

“It’s not even serious, I shouldn’t have—” 

“No, it’s just—” She looks up at him, because he’s walked _right_ up to her, and even though she’s tall, Tim’s always been just a little taller. Her gaze has to skip between his eyes just to focus. They’re dark, a match for his relentlessly tousled hair, and suddenly the urge to slide behind his ears and remember how it feels under her fingers is almost overwhelming. He looks so serious, and he’s—so close, and he’s— 

Something in her brain slots exactly into place. Sasha breathes, and makes the barest of nods, and lets slip a breathy “ _Okay_ ” as she reaches for his collar and tugs him down to her. 

Her heartbeat isn’t loud enough to cover Tim’s sharp inhale when she meets his lips, but he catches up quickly; it triples in speed when she feels him kiss her back, and when his hands come to her sides, a little hesitantly. Only that’s not what she wants, so Sasha does just what she’d intended; slides a hand up his neck and into his hair, and scrapes her nails against the base of his scalp. 

Tim makes this little strangled moan and his arms wrap around her, and _yeah_ , that’s more like it. His arms come around and circle her waist. It’s not quite enough to silence the ticking of her brain, that part that never shuts up and is chanting especially loudly _what are you doing you’re kissing tim why are you kissing tim_ , but if she focuses enough on his arms around her and his lips on hers, then it’s close. Then it’s— 

—And then Tim leans into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, and then it’s just _tim tim tim tim_ , which isn’t—helpful, exactly, but it’s certainly distracting. She makes a noise she didn’t think she could make, and clings to him more desperately. She hears him whisper “ _Sash_ ,” breath hitting her cheek, and she pulls him in again, eager to relearn _everything_ about the shape of his mouth and the feeling of him. 

Her eyes stay closed even when they finally break apart. She focuses on her breathing, on _his_ , loud and stunned near her ear, and tries not to think about how on earth she’s gonna walk this back. If she even can. If she even wants to. 

“Does that mean I passed?” 

Sasha laughs and leans back a little, finally opening her eyes. Tim’s hold on her loosens to give her room, but he seems reluctant to let her get too far. 

“...Flying colors!” she laughs again, though this time it’s a bit too nervous. Tim is looking at her—his hair is wildly disheveled, and the realization that the stain on his lips is from _her_ lipstick almost throws her off balance—and even though he seems confused, his smile is gentle, and cautious. Hopeful. 

“Can I ask...” Tim says, and god his voice is wrecked. Sasha tracks the movement of his adam’s apple when he swallows despite herself. “Can I ask what that was?” 

“It was...” The words slip out almost thoughtlessly; even she isn’t sure what just happened. She shakes her head a little and meets his eyes again. They’re so dark, and staring at her so intently that it makes her head spin. 

Sasha does this half-cough, straightening her posture like she’s recalibrating, and arches an eyebrow at him. “Again?” she asks, almost defiant. 

“God, _please_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your comments & kudos as always!! as you can see, I am simply out of control. but i am also on [tumblr](https://smallestbrown.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/smallestbrown) so that counts for something


	3. you're everything (couch kissin')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has not known himself to be a quiet kind of kisser. It’s about escalation, generally—how a peck can lead to tongue can lead to falling into bed. But with Sasha, time slows down. He’s not in a hurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK AND MANIFESTING A TIMSASHA RENAISSANCE

“I like the face you make when I hold your hand,” she says, before glancing down at her lap, where she holds one of his mangled and scarred hands in both of hers, soft and gentle. Her thumbs run smooth across the ridge of his knuckles. 

Tim beams, lopsided. “And what face is that?” 

“This one,” she smirks back up at him, freeing a hand to poke his cheek. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tim says, catching her hand. “That’s just my Sasha face.” 

“Your _Sasha_ face?” she grins. 

“Yeah, it’s—” he laughs when she tries to poke him with her other hand. He grabs it as well, and brings it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Sasha blushes— _blushes,_ and god, he can’t control his smile. 

He holds her hands to his heart, keeping her close, just so he can look at her. Her, Sasha, not a selfie on his phone or a knockoff at the store, but genuine article Sasha James. Crooked teeth and unkempt eyebrows and everything he’s never thought he could have and more. 

He reaches out to her, her fingers twined with his, bringing his palm to her cheek. She leans into his touch, and looks at him with eyes that can’t possibly be this brown, this warm. This whole. And it’s like she slots perfectly into all the broken and lost parts of him when she leans in and meet his lips. 

Tim has not known himself to be a quiet kind of kisser. It’s about escalation, generally—how a peck can lead to tongue can lead to falling into bed. But with Sasha, time slows down. He’s not in a hurry. 

She holds his other hand in her lap, and all they do is meet in the middle. They trade one kiss after another, her lips soft and warm and just a little wet. He catches himself holding his breath, and sighs onto her lips when she meets him again. It’s grounding. He can taste her smile, feel her gently squeeze his hands. 

When he leans back, just a little, just enough to breathe, it’s all he can do to just whisper her name. Her grin comes a little wider, a little goofy. “Tim,” she responds, like it’s a sentence. Like just saying it is enough on its own, and it doesn’t need to be charming or funny or talkative or friendly, or all the things Tim does on instinct so that people like him. He loses himself in her eyes and in the quiet, and whispers her name again, “ _Sasha_ ,” reverent, like he aches to say it more than anything else, before he leans in again. 

He wants to taste her better. Wants to learn the curve of her lips, her cheeks, her chin, better than anyone. Sasha pushes a bit harder, a hand moving to his bicep. He feels like he’s sinking as she moves into his space. Still slow, gentle, but more obvious now. 

To his ears, it sounds like _This is something._

_S_ _omething you don’t have to lose._

“You’re...” he sighs in between kisses. She’s in his lap, now, pressing him against the arm of the couch. 

Sasha pulls back just a bit. “I’m...?” she teases. Her fingers slide up his shoulder and scratch lightly at his scalp. Tim laughs, breathless. 

“I don’t even think I’d thought of the end of that one.” She ducks down and laughs against his neck, brilliant and bubbly. It makes his stomach swim. Tim winds his arms around her back and holds her tight to his chest. 

“You’re... God—you’re everything.” He squeezes her a little tighter, so loathe to let her leave the hug. Her fingers smooth down his neck to the top of his spine, and back. His nose is on her collar bone, her chin resting on the top of her head. 

It’s not—comfortable, but if like this, holding her as close as he can, he could keep her safe forever, he knows he’d never let go. “You’re everything, Sasha James.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> using my platform as ex-ceo of timsasha fluff to decree we are doing it AGAIN we're making content for them AGAIN


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